Pick up your stones
We’ve probably all heard the story from our younger days—little David facing off against the man-giant Goliath, armed only with a sling and five water-smoothed stones taken from a stream in the Valley of Elah. Five stones. Why not six?
Here’s David, standing on one side of the valley, staring down a man whose immense size is matched only by his arrogance. Goliath isn’t just a problem; he’s the problem—the insurmountable, the unstoppable, the unbeatable. And David? David’s the youngest son, a shepherd, barely old enough to be there. This is not the face-off you’d expect a young man—or someone like you—to win.
But David bends down and picks up five stones.
Why five? Why not six? Why not seven for a nice, symbolic number? Or one, if God is with him? Or none, if this is all going to be miraculous anyway? After all, David makes this pragmatic assertion:
“You come to me with a sword and with a spear and with a javelin, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied” (1 Samuel 17:45, ESV).
To be fair to Goliath, David didn’t mention anything about stones. It’s an audacious plan of action that Goliath would find stunning.
David looked, searched, and chose just the right weapon to fight a man-mountain—pebbles! The guidelines would later be written: this is how you take down a giant in your life—stones. Quantity, weight, size? We’re not told. But what we are told is to make sure you have five. Is that important? Maybe the five stones don’t mean anything. Or maybe they mean everything.
Stones Are Ordinary
Here’s the thing about stones: they’re everywhere. Literally everywhere. Walk outside, pick one up. It’s not rare; it’s not flashy; it’s not impressive. But David didn’t need impressive—he needed faithful, and what was within reach. What was in front of him? Stones. Five small, smooth stones.
And that’s often how God works. He uses what’s ordinary, what’s common, what’s overlooked: a shepherd’s sling, a few loaves and fish, a manger, a cross.
The power was never in the stones—it was in the God behind them as David engaged his faith with courageous action, while the warriors of Israel looked on from a distance.
Preparedness Isn’t a Lack of Faith
Now, David didn’t grab those stones because he thought God might miss the first time. No, this wasn’t doubt sneaking into his preparation or some anticipated incompetence. This was a man with a CV that said he’d faced lions and bears and seen them off. David knew that faith doesn’t exclude preparation. Faith isn’t reckless—it’s responsive.
Bending over, he picked up five, probably because five felt right—maybe because that’s what fit in his hand. Sometimes you just grab what’s in front of you and trust that God is in it.
It’s not about hedging your bets; it’s about showing up, ready for whatever God wants to do. That’s why you pray every day and read God’s Word—cometh the hour, cometh the man (or woman!) sort of thing.
The Battle Belongs to the Lord
And then there’s David’s declaration, the real turning point of the story, and we all need one of these—proclamations of our conviction in and about the power, faithfulness, and omnipotence of our God:
“You come to me with a sword and with a spear and with a javelin, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied” (1 Samuel 17:45, ESV).
This is the absolute heart of it. David doesn’t show up with overwhelming charisma, strategy, or swagger. He shows up with trust because he knows something that Goliath, with all his armour and size, has completely missed: David may be in front of him, but this isn’t David’s fight. It’s God’s.
And when the battle belongs to the Lord, the tools in your hand—your acts of obedience—are enough.
Your Five Stones
We all face giants: fear, insecurity, regret, addiction, a broken relationship. That thing you’ve prayed about for years and it still hasn’t moved, that towers over you or stands in the shadows.
And sometimes, staring down the giant, we think, I need more. I need bigger. I need better. But what if God is saying, You don’t need what you don’t have. You need to trust Me with what’s already in your hands.
The miracle isn’t in the size or quantity of the stones; it’s in the size of your faith. And even faith—Jesus said it—can be as small as a mustard seed.
It’s Always Been About the Cross
David stooped, quickly picked up those stones, and walked with eyes open into a battle that should have been impossible. But David wasn’t fighting for himself; he was standing in for all of Israel, a lone figure in the valley, standing in the gap for an entire nation.
Does that remind you of anyone?
Centuries later, another man stepped into a battle He didn’t have to fight. He didn’t carry stones—He carried a cross. He didn’t defeat a giant; He defeated sin and death itself. He didn’t just win the battle—He won eternity.
Here’s the challenge: when Jesus said, “It is finished,” He wasn’t just talking about sin. He was talking about your giants too.
Our response must be: grab your stones, walk into the valley, and trust that the God who slayed the biggest giant of all is right there with you. Always.